Author's Note: I saw a story here titled "All the Sunshine in Australia", and it kept reminding me of Larry Gatlin's song, "All the Gold in California". Inspiration for this came when we see House hit Chase. DISCLAIMER: the song was written and recorded by Larry Gatlin and belongs to him; House, M. D. belongs to...Fox, maybe, but NOT to me.
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
All the gold in California
Is in a bank in the middle of Beverly Hills
In somebody else's name
So if you're dreaming about California
It don't matter at all where you've played before
California's a brand new game
Chase listened to the old song with a sense of sadness. He was sitting on a stool in the corner of a local bar. The jukebox had begun playing this song and, with nothing else to do, he listened to it. Cradling his drink, old memories started to envelope him. Now, he was kind of sorry he was listening to it.
He thought about why he came to Princeton Plainsborough. He had been an eager, young opportunist back then. Not that he had come looking for gold; not literally, anyway. No, he had been looking for an opportunity. He had been so sure that he had found it when he heard that Dr. House was looking for a new team.
He had applied for the fob, and had spent the next few weeks obsessing about it. There was no way that his father hadn't known that he wanted the job. At the time, he hadn't cared how. He had considered himself ready for anything.
Chase considered that thought, taking a swig of beer. He had expected everything to come to him, just like that. But things hadn't gone according to plan. House, for one thing. He wasn't at all what Chase had expected him to be. The other two team members, for another.
Cameron was the angel at first glance. But after he got to know her, he realized that that was just a facade. It was like a pretty mask she wore. The truth was she was a hypocrite. And she didn't even admit it. She insisted on thinking herself above all hypocrisy.
She had been okay at first, but it hadn't taken her long to start assuming him to be the arrogant, spoiled rich type. Chase knew he had been, to a certain extent. But he had come to work. The worst, of course, had been when she had tricked him into sleeping with her. Afterwards, he had felt extremely humiliated. She hadn't felt any remorse.
Foreman had turned out to be better. Chase hadn't thought he would, at first. Foreman had started out with the opinion that Cameron had ended up with. He had been impatient with and somewhat rude to Chase for the first few weeks. But that had eventually passed, and they reached an understanding.
They still had their disagreements, of course. But, for the most part, they stayed out of each other's business. And they could always count on one another for a sympathetic smile when House was being particularly difficult. All in all, they now had a pretty good working relationship. Chase was grateful for that.
House, however, was a different story altogether. He was rude. He was sarcastic. He was irritating, annoying, and condescending. And he was that way with everyone, not just Chase. That wasn't as much comfort as it should have been.
House never treated Chase with respect. Although, House never really treated anyone with respect. But he had hinted that the only reason he had hired Chase was because his dad had make a phone call. At first, it had been easy enough to ignore. But as time wore on, it started to get to him. And he hated all of the comments House made about him kissing up. What was worse was all of these comments were put in a raunchy context. Coupled with all of House's 'prettyboy' comments, Chase was beginning to feel more and more like a whore. Chase HATED that.
He had been a fool.
Tryin' to be a hero, winding up a zero
Can scar a man forever right down to your soul
Living on the spotlight can kill a man outright
Cause everything that glitters is not gold
'Everything that glitters is not gold. How true that's proved,' Chase thought. Yes, he had been a big fool back then. But then, he considered, maybe he was a bigger fool now. He felt like one.
Chase had been determined to be the best doctor out there. He had been hell-bent on making his father proud of him. He had spent years in medical training, and it was finally paying off. He had his first position, with his first choice of doctor. Everything should have been so perfect. He was living what he thought had been his dream.
But, as usual, he had overestimated himself. Either that or he had underestimated House. Chase wasn't entirely sure which; maybe both. Oh, well, it didn't matter. The effect was exactly the same.
The sudden realization that his 'dream' had always been nothing more that sequins and ash had hit him hard. He had lost a good deal of his self confidence and self respect, which meant that he usually ended up agreeing with House rather than speaking up. It didn't take long for House to notice this, which only made matters worse. House had started hounding him about it. And that only stripped away more self confidence, which made him agree with House more. It never ended. It never would.
The most ironic thing was that his old college and med-school friends still envied him. They'd often call him up to hear the amazing stories of House's cases. They wanted to know: how did he come up with the diagnosis? What had Chase done to help? What was it like to work with someone so brilliant? And they would not believe him when he said that it sucked. They just reminded him how lucky he was, or gave him an unconvincing, envy-filled "I'm sorry" and hung up. And they still put him on a pedestal.
Chase tossed some money to the bartender and walked out, not waiting for the change. He had to get away from that song. It hit way too close to home. He headed back to his apartment. His preoccupation kept him from really noticing anything around him. The next thing he knew, he was opening his door and tossing his coat over the back of his couch.
He decided that he really was an idiot. House had probed what he thought of Chase when he had hit Chase. What was the point of continuing to try? What smart, sane person would?
All the gold in California
Is in a bank in the middle of Beverly Hills
In somebody else's name
So if you're dreaming about California
It don't matter at all where you've played before
California's a brand new game
House stared at the writing on the mirror. It didn't seem to make any sense. The words, coupled with all the blood, should have been. But something seemed wrong.
Shaking himself out of his shock, he knelt down by Chase and felt his neck for a pulse. He found a weak one. Sighing relief, he grabbed the first dry towel he could find. He wrapped up Chase's wrists as quickly and tightly as possible. At the same time, he whipped out his cell phone and called 911.
The rest was a blur that House would never quite remember. All that ever came to him flashed of bright lights of red and blue, yelling voices, the whines and beeping of machines, and the sense of desperate urgency. It seemed to never end. But then (and this was the part that haunted him the most), it suddenly was. Chase was dead; by his own hand.
House had been totally reclusive, seemingly inconsolable, for days afterwards. He took Chase's belongings when the police were done with them. Everyone took him for grief-stricken. But no, that seemed wrong. What he was, he realized, was numb.
For every one of those days, the verse that Chase had left on the mirror in jet-black marker continuously ran through his head. Taken literally, it didn't make any sense. Figuratively, though, its meaning made House's stomach cramp with guilt. He only returned to work when he found the rest of the song. It had only confirmed his suspicions.
"House," Cameron called to him down the hall as he was turning away from her. He faced her wordlessly. "It wasn't your fault," she whispered, a pitying expression on her face. "His father is dieing, and Chase did mention that he had cut Chase out of his will. In the verse that Chase left..." Before he could stop himself, House found himself laughing, though his eyes were red and his voice held no humor. Cameron looked confused, and then braced herself for a sarcastic, biting remark.
"That's not what it was about," House barked out when he regained control. "He gave up on himself, he considered himself a failure." He looked down and said in a quieter, sadder voice, "And it was my fault."
With that, he limped away.